Traces of a Life
by Queen of Alexandria
Summary: When Hermione needs a new start, she buys an old seaside Victorian house, but she is shocked to find that she shares the house with none other than the spirit of Sirius Black. Could this be the change she wanted?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello, everyone. Yes, c'est moi, again. I know, it's been awhile. After HBP, I just really lost momentum with Unspeakable. There's nothing wrong with AU fics, but I just felt that it was wrong to continue. Hopefully, by the time of the seventh book, I won't be very far into this story, so I'll be able to adjust accordingly. Sorry about not writing, but things got really hectic. I can't promise anything with this fic. Writing it was sort of spur of the moment, and I'm not sure of exactly where it's going yet, but I hope my writing has improved some since Unspeakable. Please review with any suggestions, comments, etc.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters, locales, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. This is just fanfiction, written for amusement only. I am not making any money, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

The house was a spacious Victorian, and it had been standing in this particular spot overlooking the ocean for many years from the looks of it. Although it was not a ramshackle dwelling by any means, the house had fallen into slight disrepair after many years of being unoccupied, and Hermione could see that restoring it would take effort. She welcomed the challenge, though. It would be nice to get away, to focus her energy into something, to have a place of her own.

She was surprised she could afford the house, but its owners didn't seem to mind parting with it. They hardly recognized its value. Well, one person's trash is another's treasure.

Hermione took an old fashioned and somewhat rust-ridden key from her purse, and fitted it into the lock of the heavy front door. The door creaked open, and she stepped inside to survey her new home.

The foyer was dark, and with a wave of her wand, Hermione lit the candles that hung in the large wrought iron chandelier. The place was truly a magical home; it hadn't a trace of electricity or any other muggle conveniences that Hermione was used to from childhood. Cobwebs were visible in the corridor, and in the sitting room that lay open to the right, white sheets covered elegant antique furniture. It was obvious that no one had lived here for quite some time.

Hermione had spent the morning moving what few possessions she had into the place and cleaning her new bedroom. She was tired from a hard day's work and would worry about the other rooms of the house in the morning. For now, she had decent quarters to sleep in for the night, and that was all she needed.

She moved slowly up the staircase to the second floor landing and into the room she had chosen as her own. It was smaller than the other three bedrooms in the house, but it seemed more comfortable, more suited to Hermione's tastes. A fireplace was situated in the corner of the room, and the far window overlooked the stormy grayish blue ocean. A four-poster bed was placed with its headboard against the right wall, jutting out towards the center of the room. Hermione had decorated her room in shades of white and pale blue. The room, once lonely and unused, was transformed into a sparkling clean chamber that looked not only livable but also pretty.

Looking around in tired satisfaction, Hermione made up her mind to research the history of the house when she finished restoring it to its former glory. It wasn't as if there was much else to do these days.

After closing the curtains against the imminent dusk, Hermione lay down on the bed. She didn't intend to sleep just yet, but she wanted a quiet moment to relax and let her mind wander.

She wasn't quite sure what had brought her here. Life had become stifling and old in the flat in London, and she had opted for a change of scenery, an escape, a new start, or something of the sort. She was currently in between careers and wasn't really sure of the direction her life would take next. She had enough money to live on for an indefinite while, though. There was no need to rush.

She had looked at many places with disinterest until on a whim, she had decided to take a tour of this place. She wasn't serious about buying it at first; it looked so expensive. It was just intriguing, and a quick tour for amusement's sake never hurt anyone. She couldn't believe her fortune when the real estate agent had offered the home at such a reasonable price.

Ron would have loved it here. They had always wanted a home of their own. They had wanted many things, but the chance for that had passed. To quote one of Hermione's favorite muggle authors, Margaret Mitchell, "It was gone with the wind…"

Hermione sighed and silently vowed to stop thinking so much. Thought was great; it was what separated human from beast she supposed, but it could be quite unfortunate when one's mind chose to wander in certain directions. The past was done, and an incessant parade of what ifs certainly never helped anybody. This was meant to be a change, something of a new start.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but Hermione slowly gave way to the luxurious tiredness that filled her. She hadn't meant to sleep, but for once, she might sleep well. The room was dark but for a small candle that burned on the bedside table, and the house was peaceful and still.

Hermione wasn't sure exactly how long she had been sleeping, but when she woke she had an odd feeling. She had always had good instincts, and they had become even better after her years in the auror division with Harry and Ron. Slowly opening her eyes, Hermione looked around the room only to find that she was alone.

Tensed for any sound or movement, she waited with bated breath. The candle had burned itself out, and she wasn't sure what time it was. It was probably sometime in the very early hours of morning, she guessed. Gradually Hermione's eyes adjusted to the darkness, but she could discern nothing but the outline of furniture in the dark.

Hermione reached under her pillow and grasped her wand before rising from the bed and making her way to the door, careful not to make any noise. Cautiously, she pulled the door open and made her way down the corridor, staying close to the wall as she made her way to the stairs.

She involuntarily shivered at the touch of the cold hardwood floors upon her bare feet, and carefully descended to the first floor, moving at an almost unbearable pace now as she tested her weight on each stair. She was not familiar with the house yet, and she wanted the advantage, should anyone or anything be in the house with her.

Hermione froze at the bottom of the stairs. There was the sound she had heard earlier, a few seconds after waking. It sounded as though a breeze was blowing through the house, but Hermione couldn't remember leaving any windows open. In fact, she remembered checking them the previous afternoon to make sure they were shut. It could get quite chilly in this part of the country in the fall.

She remembered her family home in the London suburbs. She had lived there with her parents as a child. It was a beautiful old home that had been in the Granger family for generations, and she supposed that this was why she had such a love of welcoming, antique houses. She had woken up many times as a child, frightened of strange noises in the dark, and her mother had always told her that it was just the old house "settling in." She hoped that this held true now, with this house.

She had entered the main corridor now, and there was that noise again, coming from a door off to the left, the library. Well, it wasn't really a grand, full-size library, but it was a spacious room into which Hermione had moved her many shelves full of various books.

The door was ajar, and Hermione crept up to the door and slowly inched it further open. She had gone unnoticed thus far, but it was at this moment that the door chose to make an untimely squeak on its long neglected hinges, and a voice from within the library called out, "What the hell?!" in surprised confusion.

All attempts at stealth forgotten, Hermione swung the door open, wand pointed at the disembodied voice, and gasped aloud at the shocking sight in her library. What appeared to be a ghost was standing in the moonlight beside the ottoman, staring back at her with an expression that mirrored her own. It was the ghost of Sirius Black.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed! In case anyone wonders, I got Hermione's age from the Harry Potter Lexicon. It's a wonderful reference site for anyone who's writing a fanfic.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locales, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. I write fanfiction for amusement only. I am not making any money, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 2

Sirius had thought he would be alone in this house of all places, but he was surprised to find that the house had changed. Most of the rooms were still as he remembered them, but this room had been scrubbed spotless, and shelves full of books lined the walls. These books obviously belonged to someone.

He heard the door creak, and Sirius turned to see this someone standing in the doorway pointing a wand at him. He wasn't overly worried about the wand at this point, though. The woman was of average stature with long, curly brunette hair. She wore a faded pair of muggle jeans and a Holyhead Harpies sweatshirt, and her clothes were rumpled, as if she had slept in them. She looked vaguely familiar to Sirius, but he couldn't place her. She obviously recognized him, however.

"Sirius?" she asked tremulously, then regaining her nerve she brandished the wand again and demanded, "You are Sirius Black, aren't you?"

Sirius was taken aback, and blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. "You can see me?" Well, that was obvious.

"Everyone wizard or witch can see ghosts," the woman stated matter-of-factly. Something was amiss.

"Did I know you?" Sirius inquired. Her identity floated at the back of his mind, just out of reach, taunting him.

"If you really are the ghost of Sirius Black, then we knew each other years ago, but how am I to know who you are?" she replied.

"How am I to know if we knew each other if I don't know your name?" Sirius answered boldly. This dance could go on forever if neither of them gave ground.

"Hermione."

Sirius remembered her. She looked like Hermione, but she was a bit older. She had the same features, but something about her had changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on the change, though.

"Hermione Granger? It's really you?" It wasn't a question but an expression of relief and mild awe.

Hermione mumbled something that Sirius couldn't make out. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that last bit." He waited, watching her.

"Not Granger. Hermione Weasley," she answered quietly, coolly meeting his gaze, prepared for the questions that would inevitably come.

"You and Ron? You're married? That's wonderful." He smiled at her somewhat uncertainly.

"I was married."

Her curt answer only aroused more questions, but Sirius could tell that she didn't want to talk about it. As she relaxed her outstretched wand arm and moved further into the room, Sirius's gaze moved almost unwittingly to her left hand. She didn't wear a wedding ring.

"What are you doing here after all those years? And why are you so surprised that I can see you? Anyone with a even a drop of magical blood can see a ghost." Hermione said again, anxiousness giving way to that ever-present analytical curiosity that he had always associated with her.

"What year is it?" Sirius asked suddenly. He was surprised that he hadn't thought to ask yet.

"It's 2009." This would make her around thirty, give or take a year or two, he realized. He really had been gone a long time.

She had answered his questions, and now it was only fair that he try to answer hers. "I'm not sure that I am a ghost. I've walked here from London, and like a ghost, I don't sleep, eat, drink. I'm not tired, and I can't feel pain. I can walk through walls, and I'm not able to touch anything. I certainly look like a ghost." As if to confirm this, Sirius looked down at his arm. It was transparent and gray. He tried to touch a vase of silk flowers on a nearby table, and his suspicions were only further confirmed when his hand simply passed through the vase with no sensation at all.

"For now I am both a man and a ghost. No one else has been able to see me, and I passed loads of people on the walk here from London. It's complicated. Maybe I'll be able to explain it better later. I came here because this is my house. Well, it was anyway, years ago, around the time Harry was born." Sirius seemed lost in thought for a moment trying and finally succeeding in recollecting when he had lived in this place. Time seemed disconnected and skewed for him.

"So this was your house. I was wondering about its history. I bought it a few days ago, and tonight was my first night here." Hermione certainly hadn't been disappointed. There was a story far more interesting that what she had expected in this place. As for why she was the only one who could see Sirius, Hermione was puzzled. She only hoped that she didn't belong in the mental ward at St. Mungo's.

Hermione took a moment to silently survey Sirius. He looked exactly as he had before, on that fateful night. Well, except for the whole ghostly appearance part. He had not aged at all, and Hermione briefly thought it was strange that they looked to be near the same age now. She also noticed that there was a gash across his chest from Bellatrix's curse. The actual slash wasn't visible except for a razor thin, diagonal tear across the front of his robes, but it was coated with something silvery that resembled blood. It was odd how humor occurred in moments like these. Sirius, a true Gryffindor, would kill her if she told him he looked like the Bloody Baron.

After a pause, Sirius noticed that Hermione was trying to stifle a yawn. "You should rest," he advised.

"Are you kidding? I think I have a bit much on my mind." Hermione said with a wry smile. She had sought a change when she moved to this quiet seaside town. Well, life had changed. At least she had something interesting to occupy her mind now. And truth be told, she was very glad to see Sirius again.

"I think I'll just have some coffee," Hermione said, once again lighting the chandelier with a wave of her wand and heading for the kitchen.

Sirius groaned. He had loved coffee, maybe even more than Hermione did, if that was possible. "This being dead thing really bites," he grumbled.

Glancing back, Hermione noticed the petulant look on Sirius's face, and she couldn't help but laugh, causing Sirius to smile in spite of himself. Life certainly was going to be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am writing this fan fiction for amusement only. I am not making any money, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 3

Hermione had returned to the sitting room with a cup of hot coffee and situated herself on the sofa across from Sirius, who had slumped onto the floor across from her. Well, not really on the floor. More like suspended in air, a few inches above the floor.

"Where have you been all these years?" Hermione asked after a long silence.

"I don't really know. I woke up about three nights ago with a few old friends standing over me telling me that I was in heaven, but I wasn't actually dead. The last thing I remembered was Bellatrix's curse and falling into that black veil at the Ministry. Apparently the curse wasn't fatal, but the veil sent me to the afterlife, and no one's sure whether I should be alive or dead. That's why I was sent back to earth. If I can find a reason to live, then I can stay, and I won't look like this anymore," Sirius explained, indicating his incorporeal form.

"A reason to live? What kind of reason?" Hermione frowned, thinking.

"I wish I knew. So far you're the only person who can see or hear me, and I have no idea what I should do."

"Well, what was important to you when were alive? Maybe you should start there."

Sirius replied almost instantly. "I promised James and Lily that I would take care of Harry. That was important. That and not letting Voldemort win."

"You've missed the war. We won, but some days I wonder if the victory was worth the price."

"What do you mean? What's the world like now? How's Harry?"

Hermione hesitated. She had said too much. Too much for her comfort as well as for his. She always hated explaining these things; they were so personal. She didn't want to hurt Sirius either, and some of the stories he would want to hear would be painful.

"People died. Lives were changed, some of them ruined. The world is still recovering even though the war's been over for a few years now. Most of the former Death Eaters have been caught, but a few are still at large. The government is stable but not all that efficient right now. Scrimgeour has stepped down as Minister. He had to after the war because he had the lowest popularity of any Minister in the last three centuries. The world's okay, I guess. Harry survived."

Sirius would see what she meant. He would understand if he stuck around long enough. As for the part about Harry, she figured she would just leave it at that for now. He had survived, and he hadn't been grievously maimed, but he certainly wasn't alright.

Sirius seemed satisfied with that answer. His relief was written on his face, but Hermione felt ill at ease.

Then came another question, even more difficult. "Who died?"

Hermione breathed deeply and answered. Might as well bite the bullet, get it over with. "Dumbledore, Emmeline, Luna, Ginny…and Ron."

Sirius had tried to prepare himself. He had seen many horrific sights in his lifetime and had become desensitized to some, but the deaths of people he cared about, his comrades, his friends, his mentor, such things always shocked him, hurt him. It must have hurt more for Hermione, though. So, that was what "I was married," meant.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said with genuine concern, reaching for her hand. He had forgotten that he was a ghost, and his hand went straight through hers.

She shivered. "I…I'm sorry," Sirius stammered.

"That was such an odd sensation, like sticking my hand into a pitcher of ice water," Hermione said, her curiosity once again present. She had never touched a ghost before.

They were silent for a moment, and she realized that she had finished her coffee. Hermione considered going to the kitchen for more, but decided not to. She had finally begun to feel tired, and maybe, just maybe, she could sleep well tonight, er, this morning. Whatever. Caffeine didn't really work on her anymore; she just liked the taste of coffee.

Hermione tried to suppress a yawn, but she couldn't, and Sirius noticed. "You look exhausted. I hope you don't have anywhere to be today," he commented.

"No, nowhere," she answered drowsily. "Not anymore."

Sirius's interest was piqued yet again, but this could wait until later. Right now, Hermione needed rest.

Slowly, she got up from the sofa and made her way out into the hall, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. This time she bothered with changing into pajamas and turning down the covers. The last image to fleeting image to cross her brain was Sirius's face, ghostly and transparent. She was asleep almost instantly with no time for thought.

Sirius remained in the sitting room for a while, thinking. He had awoken in a strange place three nights ago; he had been in heaven, and he had seen James and Lily. They had been the ones to inform him of his predicament, and they had talked for a bit about other things, too. Sirius was relieved that neither James nor Lily blamed him. They knew about Peter. He supposed they knew about a great deal of things with such an immense view of the world from up there.

He didn't really know which direction to go in with the reason to live, though. The war was over, and Sirius had never had a real career. He had inherited a fortune, so money was never a problem, and his only purpose when he was alive had been the Order, but the Order was probably no longer necessary. Sirius hadn't had much time to sort out his life. He had spent half his life either falsely imprisoned or on the run.

Sirius reached for something that hung around his neck on a lanyard tucked underneath the collar of his robes. It was a small coin, one of the Zonko line from many years ago, when he had been a student, and it had turned a ghostly, transparent blue-gray, too, when he had returned to earth.

Sirius held the coin for a moment, concentrating. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Sirius had begun to wonder if the thing worked, when something did happen. A cloud of bluish-gray mist formed in the middle of the sitting room, and it began to swirl and take shape. The spirit of James Potter was standing before him. James made a mock bow. "Already, Padfoot?" He said with a grin.

"How do I go about finding a reason to live? Can you tell me that much?" Sirius asked, frustrated. He loved a challenge, but this was a bit much. He felt as though he had nothing to go on.

"Sirius, I can't tell you anything about that. You're supposed to figure it out on your own. Don't try so hard. Just try to live, and see what happens. Two months can be a long time."

"Well, why is Hermione the only one who can see me?"

Sirius thought this at least would be a question James could answer, but James refused again and just smiled cryptically.

"Sirius, I have to be going. You know where to find me if you need me." With this, James was gone, and Sirius was left once again with more questions than answers. Just try to live, and see what happens. Very well, he would try. The adrenaline rush of a challenge was coursing through him, and he would succeed, he had to. Who knew what could happen in two months.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locales, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. I am writing this fan fiction for fun only. I am not making any profit, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 4

When Hermione awoke in the morning, she knew it was late because of the rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. Still in her pajamas, she walked downstairs to find Sirius, to make sure this hadn't all been a bizarre dream.

She found him in the library, standing in front of one of her bookshelves and glaring intently. "Sirius, what on earth are you doing?"

He turned to face her, looking frustrated. "Another side effect of my being a ghost is that I can't touch anything, not even books."

Hermione came to stand next to him. The book, a very old leather bound volume with gilded pages, was entitled Ghosts and Similar Phenomena. She took the book from the shelf, deep in thought. "I'll be right back," she said, dashing off with the large book in hand.

Sirius remembered this habit of hers from years ago. When Hermione had an idea, she often shared it with the curious masses only after she had perfected it. With a sigh, he slumped back onto the couch, only to sink straight through it again. Sirius swore. How did he manage to get himself into these situations, anyhow?

After about half an hour, Hermione returned, beaming, with the book still in hand. She placed the book on the coffee table in front of Sirius and said, "Go on, try to read it."

Sirius wasn't sure what she was expecting, but he humored her, hoping that something would happen. Sirius's fingers made contact with the book, and he could feel it, solid and whole, lying on the table. Tentatively, he turned a few pages. It worked!

"But how, Hermione? What did you do?" Sirius was amazed. He had been right all those years ago when he had said that she was the brightest witch of her age.

"Have you ever heard of compound charms?" she asked.

Sirius nodded. They were very interesting. Compound charms were a combination of two or more existing pieces of magic that produced a new spell. Many spells in current usage had originated from compound charms. They were easy to use once refined and combined into one easy incantation, but they were very difficult to discover, and not many people could perform them in their original state. Few people had the skill to discover a compound charm, but apparently Hermione could do it. Sirius had never possessed the skill himself, but he had a basic knowledge of them.

Hermione continued to explain her discovery, "You understand that in essence the purpose of magic is to make other objects or beings bend to the magic user's will. I combined this principle with a spell to detect ghostly presences. Now the book is charmed to understand that you want to read it, so you can touch it, and turn the pages.

Sirius was amazed. That was a very complex piece of magic, and she had possibly been the first witch or wizard in history to know that it existed. Hermione had unbelievable skill, and here she was hiding out in an old house. There were people in the Ministry's Experimental Charms Committee who could only dream of having such ability.

Hermione went to the kitchen to make breakfast, and Sirius continued to read the book, hoping to find some information that would be of use to him. From the kitchen, he could hear the sound of music, and although he didn't know much about current music, he suspected it was Muggle rock.

He had been reading for only a few minutes when green flames erupted in the fireplace, and Molly Weasley's head appeared. "Hermione, dear! Are you home?" she called, unaware that Sirius was in the room.

Hermione didn't hear, as she was engrossed in the task of cooking, and the music was quite loud. Leave it up to Hermione to be unpredictable. Most wouldn't suspect that she had a love for rock music, but Sirius wasn't all that surprised. He suspected that this was just one part of her many-faceted personality.

Sirius walked into the kitchen. "Hermione, Molly Weasley just appeared in your fireplace," he notified her.

"Thanks," she said as she hurriedly removed a hot pan from the burner and rushed into the sitting room. Sirius stayed in the kitchen. He didn't know what they were talking about, and he didn't want to intrude on anything that might be personal.

Back in the sitting room, Hermione greeted her former mother-in-law, hoping that the sudden need to talk wasn't because of some unforeseen emergency. Fortunately, it wasn't.

"Hermione could you possibly watch Lily for the day? Bill just Apparated over to tell me that Fleur's gone into labor, and I need to go to St. Mungo's with them. I'm sorry to ask on such short notice, dear, but there wasn't anyone else I could turn to."

"Of course I'll watch Lily. I'll be glad to." It wasn't a problem, really. Lily was such a sweet child, and Hermione adored her little niece. Sirius would be in for a bit of a shock when she saw Lily, though. Hermione surmised that he would be able to guess whom the child belonged to as soon as he saw her. Oh well, she would have to explain it sooner than later.

A few moments later, Molly Weasley flooed over with Lily in tow, dropped the child off, and then left for the hospital. "Aunt Mione!" Lily exclaimed, rushing over to hug Hermione. Lily was five, and because she had been unable to say 'Hermione' when she had first started talking, she had always called Hermione 'Aunt Mione.'

In the kitchen, the music had ended, and Sirius had been walking back down the hallway when he heard a child's voice. He entered the room. Hermione was sitting on the couch, talking to a little girl. "Can you read me a story today, Aunt Mione?" the child asked.

"First, let's eat breakfast, then we'll read," Hermione answered.

As Hermione stood to lead her niece into the dining room, Sirius saw the child. She was a small, slight girl for her age, with red curls, freckles, and bright green eyes. He was startled. The girl had Harry's eyes, as well as a few of his facial features. If this girl was Harry's daughter and Hermione's niece, that would make Ginny the mother. Sirius remembered Hermione telling him that Ginny had died in the war. So Harry was a widower with a young daughter. Things certainly had changed in his absence.

The girl stopped in her tracks, and with eyes wide with wonder, she pointed in Sirius's direction. "Ooh, Aunt Mione, look! Your new house has a ghoul! There's a ghoul at grandma and grandpa's house, too, only I don't like him. He's scary, but this ghoul looks nice."

Hermione was shocked that Lily could see Sirius, but she had read somewhere that because children had such imagination and innocence, they were sometimes able to see things that many adults couldn't.

"Lily, he's not a ghoul, he's a spirit, and his name is Sirius," Hermione explained gently, as her niece stared at Sirius in amazement.

Turning toward him, Hermione announced, "Sirius, meet Lily Adèle Potter, Harry and Ginny's daughter." He could see why her parents had chosen the name Lily; she looked remarkably like Harry's mother, Lily Potter.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locales, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. I am writing this fan fiction for fun only. I am not making any profit, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 5

After breakfast, Lily, Hermione, and Sirius ventured into the library to find a story for Lily. Lily picked out a Muggle story called Shrek, and she and Hermione sat down on the couch and began to read.

Hermione had only been reading to Lily for about five minutes when there was a knock at the door. "I have to go answer the door. I'll be right back," she said, setting the book down.

Lily looked disappointed for a moment, but then she had an idea. "I want Sirius to read to me," she said.

"But Sirius can't," Hermione began, but her words faltered as she remembered the charm she had used earlier that morning. She picked up the book and drew her wand, concentrating intently. Then, she wordlessly performed a spell, and a beam of orange light coursed into and around the storybook. Handing the book to Sirius, Hermione made her way to the front door.

An unfamiliar witch wearing black robes with the official Ministry insignia emblazoned on them was standing on Hermione's doorstep. "Hello, what can I do for you?" Hermione asked, wondering why the Ministry would need to see her.

"The Ministry of Magic has received notification that at 11:04 A.M., on the morning of October 1, 2009, one Hermione Weasley performed a complex charm at this location," the witch read from a piece of parchment in a droll tone of voice.

A few seconds lapsed in silence, and another piece of parchment also bearing the Ministry seal appeared in her hands. "The Ministry of Magic has received notification that at…" the witch began, but Hermione cut her off.

"Yes, I know. I'm Hermione Weasley. Is the Ministry going to fine me?" she said, clearly annoyed. Hermione had dealt with more than her share of red tape during her time in the auror division, and it was one of the reasons she had moved away from London. After all her experiences in the war, politics disgusted Hermione.

"No, the Ministry does not plan to fine you, but Hector Blane, head of the Committee on Experimental Charms, has requested a meeting with you," the witch explained, sounding a bit miffed at being interrupted. Hermione surmised that she could give Professor Binns a run for his money at giving dry, boring lectures.

"Tell Mr. Blane that I will meet with him tomorrow afternoon at 1:00," Hermione answered.

"Thank you, Ms. Weasley," the witch acknowledged tonelessly before Disapparating. Well, that was odd.

As she walked back to the library, Hermione wondered why the Ministry could possibly want to see her. If Hector Blane wasn't going to fine or otherwise punish her for using compound charms, why did he need to see her?

As she neared the open library doors, Hermione could hear Lily laughing and Sirius reading the story in all sorts of amusing voices for each of the different characters. She smiled; it was nice to have people in her house, even if it was just for today. For a moment, she wondered what would have happened if Ron hadn't died. Would they have had children by now?

Hermione entered the room just as Sirius was finishing the story. "It sounds like you two were having fun," she said. "Now what do you want to do today, Lily?"

Lily was quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought. Hermione sat down beside her on the couch. "Can I ask you a question, Aunt Mione?" Lily finally said.

"Sure, what is it?"

"What's wrong with Daddy? And why do I have to stay with Grandma and Grandpa so much?"

Sirius looked startled at this question. It was one that Hermione was hoping her niece wouldn't ask yet. She knew that Molly had wanted to wait until she was a bit older before explaining everything, but she felt that it was best to give the child a basic explanation. Who knew what Lily might hear in school or what her imagination might concoct?

Hermione took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering. "Well, your father had a difficult time in the war. You know about the war, don't you?" she began. Lily nodded; she had heard stories about the war from her aunts and uncles. "Well, your father just needs time to heal from the war; sometimes he hurts because of all that happened to him, and it's better if you stay with your Grandma and Grandpa while he's getting better."

"Will he be okay?" Lily asked with a worried look on her face.

"He'll be okay. It might take time, but he'll be alright." Hermione fervently hoped she was right about this.

"Aunt Mione, where's heaven? Everybody says that's where Mommy is." Lily looked at her aunt curiously.

Hermione paused again. She wasn't sure how to explain this. Would Lily understand the concept of death? Was she ready to understand it?

Sirius took over for her. "Well, after people pass away, after they leave the earth, they go to a place really far up in the sky, past the clouds and past the stars. It's a great place where everyone's happy. You'll see your friends and your family there. Some people like your mommy just leave earlier than others, that's all. It's beautiful. There are flowers and sunlight everywhere, and the streets are made of pure gold. Even though your mommy can't come back, she can still see you, and she still loves you," Sirius answered.

"How do you know?" Lily questioned, gazing at him in awe.

"I've been there, once. That's why I'm a spirit," Sirius answered.

Lily smiled. "If mommy can't come home, at least she's happy in heaven."

Hermione let out the breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. She was glad for Sirius; he had explained it much better that she could have.

"I've been collecting chocolate frog cards. Wanna see them?" Lily asked, going over to the small bag of toys that Molly had allowed her to bring. The child brought back a small book filled with only about ten or twelve cards. Hermione noticed that Dumbledore was among them.

"Did you know him, Aunt Mione?" she asked.

"Yes, I knew him, a long time ago," Hermione answered. She thought for a long moment. The cards reminded her of Ron. He had collected them up until his death, and he had every single one of them, except for Morgana. He had searched for years and had never found that particular card.

"I think I have something for you Lily. I'll be right back," Hermione said, dashing off toward the attic. Hermione made her way down the hall and up the stairs until she reached the locked attic door. When she had arrived, she had instructed the movers to put all of the boxes in the attic. She still hadn't gone through Ron's belongings. At first, it was difficult. She had kept thinking that he would walk through the door at any minute, that he was just out on another mission for the Order or the auror division. Finally, when it had sunk in that he was really gone, Hermione had not wanted to go through his possessions. She had not wanted to dredge up painful memories, and she had not wanted to move anything. She had wanted to keep his memory just as it was since he would never come home again.

Crossing the dusty attic, Hermione walked up to an old, scratched black traveling trunk and opened it. There was Ron's old broomstick from his school years, and one of his school robes, and a few secondhand textbooks. She found a small action figure that resembled Viktor Krum. It was missing an arm, and Hermione laughed softly at the sight of it. Near the bottom of the trunk, under a worn but well cared for chess set, she found what she was looking for. Ron had always kept his cards in a large red and gold notebook that Fred had given him for his birthday one year. Hermione picked up the notebook, shut the trunk, and left the attic, resolved to come back later.

When Hermione came back to the library, Sirius was telling Lily a story about the Marauders, about his school years and his best friend, her grandfather James. "And the Slytherins had red and gold faces for a week," he finished, causing Lily to laugh.

Hermione gave the notebook to her niece. "They were your uncle Ron's," she said simply.

Lily opened the book and gazed at the cards in wonder. There were pages and pages of them. "Thank you," she whispered, still gazing at the cards in awe. Hermione smiled as she watched her niece with her newly found treasure.

A few hours later, after another story and a flight around the backyard on Hermione's Firebolt, Molly arrived to take Lily home, after a quick visit to her new cousin, a little girl named Léa Camille Delacour Weasley.

After Molly and Lily had gone, Sirius turned to Hermione. "Hermione, what's wrong with Harry?" he questioned.

Hermione sighed. "After Ginny died, he lost his will to live, his will to do anything. He quit the auror division and took to sitting at home with a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey. We'll go see him tomorrow morning."

Sirius looked upset, and Hermione wished she could say something reassuring, but she didn't know what to say. Harry had been like this for three years now. Ginny had died when Lily was only two. Hermione told Sirius about her appointment with Hector Blane, and he insisted that he was going with her, just in case she needed him. Hermione agreed before walking out onto the balcony, to sit on the swing and watch the sun set in peace. She needed some time to think. She had moved away from a chaotic life in London, only to find more chaos here.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locales, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. I am writing this fan fiction for fun only. I am not making any money, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 6

Hermione wrapped her fingers around the warm coffee cup and took a sip. She would need coffee this morning. She hadn't slept well last night with this morning on her mind. She had promised Sirius that they would go see Harry today, and she had an appointment with the head of the Ministry's Experimental Charms Committee for reasons unknown. Sighing, Hermione picked up the Daily Prophet.

Hector Blane. The name sounded familiar to Hermione. Was he someone she had met or someone whose name had been mentioned once near her? Or was he just someone she had read about?

Sirius entered the kitchen, staring enviously at Hermione's coffee. "Good morning, Sirius," she said, not looking up from the newspaper.

"Good morning, Hermione."

"Have you ever heard of Hector Blane before? I think I have, but I can't place him."

Sirius thought for a few moments. "Well, years ago, a few years before you were born, he became head of the Committee. It was all over the news because he was related to the man who founded the Committee a few centuries ago, Balfour Blane."

Maybe she had just read about him, after all. Hermione turned the page of her newspaper. There was an article on page two that looked interesting, in a disturbing sort of way. The headline read, "Two Brutally Attacked and Tortured into Insanity with Cruciatus. Mysterious Mark Left."

Hermione's breath caught. However, when she glanced at the picture of the night sky, she was relieved to see that the paper's "mysterious mark" wasn't the dark mark. Instead, it was the head of a wolf with fangs drenched in dripping blood.

"Sirius, look at this," she said. Silently, he came to stand behind her and read the article. A witch and a wizard, both of whom worked in the Experimental Charms Department, had been attacked on their way home from work last night. They were alive, but their bodies were covered in gashes and bite wounds. They had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse until they were in the same condition as Frank and Alice Longbottom. The two were currently at St. Mungo's, condition unknown.

"The Department of Charms?" Sirius remarked, sounding uneasy. He didn't want Hermione mixed up in anything like this.

"I know. Maybe we'll know more after the meeting," Hermione said, her curiosity piqued.

Silence prevailed for a moment while Hermione drank the last few sips of her coffee and cleaned the mug with a quick charm. She glanced at the clock. 9:30. Now was as good a time as any.

"I suppose we should go now," she said. Harry would be expecting her. She had been coming to visit him every Saturday morning at around this time for several years now. They weren't close like they had been before. Hermione doubted that Harry was really close to anyone now. She wondered if he would be able to see Sirius. They had been close many years ago, and Lily could see him. Who knew? She just hoped everything would go alright.

Hermione concentrated for a few seconds, preparing to Apparate, when Sirius stopped her. "Hermione, how am I going to get there? I can't Apparate. I've already tried that, and it doesn't work."

Well, that threw a wrench in the works. How did ghosts travel, anyway? Godric's Hollow wasn't all that close to Hermione's new home. If he could travel with Hermione when she Apparated, it just might work. It would take another compound charm.

With her eyes closed and her brow furrowed in thought, Hermione pointed her wand at herself and muttered an incantation under her breath. A bright orange light shot out of the end of the wand and into her body. Steadying herself, Hermione reached out for Sirius's hand. This time, there was no odd sensation like ice water; she could feel his hand in hers, solid and warm, like a living person's hand. Sirius looked at their clasped hands in wonder. She never ceased to amaze him with her cleverness. Regaining her focus, Hermione Apparated.

When they reappeared, they were standing on the front porch of a large, dark brick house in Godric's Hollow. There was a small path leading through the pastoral village, and a few houses dotted the landscape. The countryside seemed alive in shades of red, orange, and yellow. Sirius remembered this place. It had always been beautiful here in the fall. Sirius looked across the pathway at the place where a simple white marble monument stood. It marked the spot where Lily and James's house had been. He remembered coming there every few days; he had spent many evenings there with his best friends before that fateful night. If he had only known, maybe things would be different.

Sirius shuddered involuntarily. Sure, there were many good memories, but he couldn't erase the sight of the house in ruins from his mind. He had been called that night, and he had been the first one to arrive, after the aurors, the healers, and the various other Ministry workers that had converged on the scene. He had been the one to identify the bodies. A chill ran though him, and he could feel Hermione's grip on his hand tighten. Sirius let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He hadn't been back since that night.

Hermione grasped the brass doorknocker and rapped it sharply against the door several times. "I'm coming!" she heard Helen shout from inside the house. Helen was Harry's housekeeper. After Ginny had died, the house had started to look like a disaster, partly because Harry was horrible at housework and partly because he hadn't the heart to keep the place up anymore. Then he met Helen, a young woman who lived in a small house down the road. Her parents had died in the war years ago, and she was trying to raise her three young siblings on her own. Harry had become friends with her and had offered her job as his housekeeper. When Gringotts took her home a year ago, Harry had bought out the property next to him and insisted that he needed a groundskeeper, so she and the children stayed there now. Helen was a good friend to Harry, and she was one of the few who could deal with him on his worst days.

When Helen opened the door, it was obvious that she couldn't see Sirius. However, he had many questions about her; he had never seen her before. Helen was a short witch with long blonde hair, and she smiled often. She was very soft-spoken, but she had more strength than most had nowadays.

"He's in the sitting room. Lily's at her grandparents' house. Today isn't exactly a good day," Helen said, with an apologetic glance at Hermione. Hermione noticed that Helen had seized a bottle of Ogden's and was in the process of pouring it down the sink. It certainly didn't look like a good day, but Harry was her friend, and she had made a promise to Sirius.

Sirius frowned as he caught the odor of firewhisky in the air. What had happened to the godson that he had sworn to take care of? Helen stayed in the kitchen as he and Hermione walked down the corridor that lead to the closed mahogany double doors of the sitting room. "Who was that woman?" he asked.

"That's Helen. She's the housekeeper," Hermione explained briefly.

Hermione knocked on the closed doors, and a voice from inside snapped, "I'd like to be alone for a while, Helen."

"It's Hermione. Can I come in?"

There was silence for a moment, and then the doors opened in front of Hermione. There was Harry, looking as weary as ever and needing a shave. His breath smelled of firewhisky. He was only thirty, but he looked ten years older. Apparently he couldn't see Sirius, who was standing behind Hermione. Sirius was disheartened; surely Harry should have been able to see him.

"Come in," Harry said, going back to his chair by the fireside and indicating the seat across from him.

"How are you, Harry?"

"Alright, I guess. How are you, Hermione?"

"Okay."

There was silence. Hermione was surprised that Harry couldn't see Sirius. She couldn't think of anything to say, and it was awkward. She could hardly recognize this man as the man who had been her friend; he was a different person now.

Harry picked up an empty glass on the end table and gazed at it for a long moment. "That woman threw out the last of the Ogden's this morning." He swore, and the glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. "Shit," Harry swore again.

Harry bent down to pick up the glass, but Hermione stopped him. With a quick spell, she got rid of the many fragments covering the floor. She couldn't look at Harry, and when she looked toward Sirius, he noticed that she had tears in her eyes. She had warned him, but Sirius was still reeling from the shock of seeing Harry.

Hermione resolutely looked away, so Harry wouldn't notice that she was about to cry. She just couldn't see him like this right now.

"Is something wrong?"

Theses simple words were enough to send her over the edge. She knew he was just concerned, but how could he be so thick as to have to ask her that?

Hermione turned back toward Harry as the tears began to fall, She couldn't hold it in any longer. "Damn it, Harry, do you think you're the only one that lost someone in this war? You've forgotten that Ron died on the same night as Ginny. Look at you! You aren't taking care of yourself. Instead you sit here everyday with a bottle of Ogden's, trying to forget that you're alive. You're not the person you used to be. You've even forgotten about Lily, in all of your misery. She's at Molly's again today because you can't take care of her. You know she asked me the other day what was wrong with her father and why she had to stay with her grandparents everyday. How was I supposed to answer that? Harry, you should be ashamed of the way you're acting."

Harry just sat there, staring at her in disbelief and sadness. This apathetic sadness was too much for Hermione. Five years ago, he would have yelled back, gotten angry, done something. He had always been a person with a passion for life, but now he just sat there, staring morosely at her. He did look ashamed.

Hermione felt a bit guilty when she looked in his eyes. Maybe she shouldn't have said all of those things. She rose from her chair abruptly and ran out of the house without bothering to say goodbye to Harry or a concerned Helen.

Once she had run a bit down the pathway, she slowed and finally came to a stop. Sirius caught up with her a few seconds later and hugged her tightly. Apparently the charm was wearing off, because although he could still touch her, he felt cold again. Hermione shivered as he let go of her.

"I'm in a fine state to go to the Ministry, aren't I?" she asked, laughing cynically through her tears.

"You don't look bad, Hermione," Sirius said uncertainly. He hadn't much experience in dealing with crying women. "You still have some time before the meeting, if you want to go home."

"You're right," Hermione said, glancing at her watch. "Let's go." She took Sirius's hand again, and they Apparated home. 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, locales, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. I am writing this fan fiction for fun only. I am not making any profit, and no infringement is intended.

Chapter 7

Hermione stood in her room in front of the mirror. She had applied more makeup, but her eyes still looked a bit red and puffy. Magic could do many amazing things, but it couldn't make her appear as if she hadn't been crying. She had tried to fix it, but nothing was to be done. She still had to go to the meeting. Sighing and putting down a bottle of makeup, Hermione made her way downstairs to meet Sirius.

Sirius wasn't sure what to say to Hermione. He didn't even know how to reassure himself. He only hoped that this meeting with Hector Blane wouldn't be too trying for her. Wordlessly, Hermione recast the charm that allowed Sirius to Apparate with her, took hold of his hand, and Apparated to the alley outside the Ministry.

On their left was a weathered red telephone box that to ordinary muggles, appeared to be out of service. Hermione entered the box and picked up the receiver, held it to her ear, and dialed 62442. A cool female voiced sounded out, "Hello. Please state your name and business with the Ministry."

"My name is Hermione Weasley, and I have an appointment with Hector Blane in the Committee of Experimental Charms Office."

The box slowly descended into the ground, stopping with a slight jerk when it reached the Atrium of the Ministry building. A badge reading 'Hermione Weasley, Appt. with Experimental Charms Committee' was deposited in the coin return slot of the old-fashioned pay telephone, and the formal, pleasant voice sounded once again throughout the box. "Have a nice day."

Pinning the badge onto her shirt, Hermione proceeded to the security checkpoint, where an absentminded wizard asked her several questions, scribbled on a piece of parchment for a few moments, and examined her wand, before allowing her to pass.

Hermione made her way through the Ministry building without thought, out of years of habit. Instead of turning right on the third floor and towards the Auror Division, she turned left and headed for a set of double doors. Pushing open the doors, Hermione arrived in the antechamber of the Committee of Experimental Charms. She had only been here once before, on business during her time as an auror. The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, and the drapes and carpet were done in tones of gray.

"Please state your name and business here," a voice sounded in the chamber.

"Hermione Weasley. I'm here for a one o'clock meeting with Hector Blane.

Proceed through the door to your left and down the hallway. Take the next corridor on your right and pass through the second door on your right," the voice directed.

Doing as she was instructed, Hermione made her way to Hector Blane's office. The corridors she passed through were narrow and drafty with dark, gleaming hard wood floors. Torches hanging in brackets on both walls provided the only light.

Hermione arrived at a closed mahogany door with a brass nameplate that read 'Hector Blane.' She knocked thrice, and a man's deep voice called, "Enter."

The office was small. In Hermione's experience, she had learned that heads of Committees or Departments usually had grand, impressive offices, but she found this one more to her liking. The same dark hardwood flooring continued into the office, and the drapes were a deep Gryffindor scarlet. Only a few sections of the walls were visible where more torches hung in brackets in gaps between the many bookshelves that stood floor to ceiling. The room slightly resembled Dumbledore's office; there were many gadgets in the chamber, only some of which Hermione, who happened to be a rather learned witch, recognized.

In the center of the room, on a scarlet rug, sat a large desk with many papers piled on top of it, organized in some way or another. There were many framed photographs lining the edge of the desk.

Behind this desk sat an aging man, with straight gray hair that was cut fairly short and a gray moustache. He wore dark black robes, and his eyes were an unusually bright blue. Although he did not look harsh, he had a serious countenance.

"Hello. You must be Ms. Weasley. I am Hector Blane." He rose when she entered, then bowed and waited until she was seated to resettle himself in his chair.

Without waiting for Hermione to speak, he continued. "I received word just recently that you are one of the few that have the ability to use compound charms, and I knew immediately that I must speak with you. You see, it has been years since we have had a witch or wizard with such capability, and we will need you in the near future. You read about the attack this morning, I am sure, in the Daily Prophet. Those were only the obvious bits. There's more to the story, I'm afraid. I am offering you a position on the Committee.

It took a moment for his words to register with Hermione. The Department of Experimental Charms employed many people, but Hector Blane had not said department. He had said the Committee. There were only eight members at present, and membership on the Committee was a highly coveted post. He had just offered to make her the ninth member, and one of the youngest in the Committee's history.

Hermione remained silent in wonder for a few moments, regarding his face. She knew him from somewhere. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, concentrating, and it all came back to her. She had seen him during the war. She had never met him before, but he had been a leader, and a good one at that. He had a fierce, no-nonsense reputation, but all those that he had led had spoken very highly of him. There was the glint of wisdom in his eyes, and he was known to be loyal to a fault and sometimes stubborn. Many had trusted him with their lives during the war, and he had not let them down. She had read somewhere that he had been a friend of Dumbledore had had helped to defeat Grindelwald in the fifties, as well.

Mistaking her silence for hesitation, Blane spoke again. "I spoke with McDowell earlier. I know you will not return to the Auror Division, and I have no doubt that you have your reasons, but I trust that you will give us a chance."

"I accept, but what will I be doing? What hours will I keep here?"

"Members of the Committee set their own hours, but all are required to attend conferences. There is a conference tomorrow evening at six o'clock, and I intend to formally introduce you to the rest of the Committee. The Minister will be there for your appointment, as well. You will work with me for the next few weeks. I will explain everything."

"Thank you, Mr. Blane. I look forward to the conference. I will try my best at whatever it is that I am needed to do."

"Well then, if you'll excuse me, I must attend a meeting on these new circumstances that have cropped up. I will see you tomorrow, Ms. Weasley. Good afternoon." Blane gave a slight smile of encouragement and another short bow before exiting his office through a door to his left.

Looking forward to a challenge and brimming with curiosity, Hermione left. She was itching to discuss this with Sirius, but it would look odd if others saw her speaking to what they would assume to be thin air. Sirius looked at her but did not speak as they left the Ministry and once again Apparated home.


End file.
